a blast form the recent past.....

once upon these days....

this. house.

these. people.

the.way.it.smells. here.

fills.my.heart.

like.it's.overflowing.

and spilling love everywhere.

My body is a pen writing a chapter in a larger story.

A short story in a collection of others

Though, parts are hard to get through, others are sweet and funny

and full of the best things.

good fruit

i'm very proud of who we're becoming.

though my words will seem few,

 my words will be bold

full to the tippy top with love and passion

the characters real, mosaics of then and now,

 all racing towards something

a light, a finish line, the sun,

Sometimes we run together

and me and you all become an us 

and the us becomes a family 

in the most extraorindarily ordinary way

and we exist without effot until we don't

when the sun gets closer

we'll be able to look back, saying,

Once upon these days we did something

radical.

we let each other co-write our stories.



....and they lived happily ever after. 

A love letter to Minnesota

Here's what you need to know, I hit the "I just want to get out of this place" phase later in life. For me, it was after college. 

So, at 23, I packed up my stuff,  and my college roommate and I moved into a charming little house, in charming little Hastings in the summer of 2009. I knew exactly 2 people, and I didn't really have a plan except for not living at home anymore. 

Turns out, though, it's probably not the best way to plan your adult future. Also, I should point out that we were "house sitting" for people who were deployed in Iraq and were living there for a stupid cheap amount, not the best way to budget how adults really lived. 

But, it was lovely. We had a beautiful back yard (where we caught a woodchuck..or something)  with a fire pit, we had a back porch we used to sit in and talk about God and watch the rain. We'd drink coffee and teach ourselves how to play piano on a gorgeous grand piano that sat in the front window. 

It's here where i first met Sam and Julia, not know then how much they would be a part of my life. It's everything you'd ever want for your post college apartment, living with your best friend, and living the dream. 

Less than a year later, we'd pack our things again and move to St. Paul. In a perfect old apartment with crooked hardwood floors, and a great view a downtown, and the chime of the Cathedral bells. 

We rented a truck and drove 700 miles in one day. I moved my bed out of parents house. I stared at my empty childhood bedroom and hug my entirely family goodbye....not really realizing the importance of that...the fact that they were all there.  It should not a be a surprise, i'm horrible at goodbyes. We all laughed about how i should not be the one to drive the moving truck...because...well...i was kind of terrible driving in my younger days.....We got 40 miles out Green Bay when I lost my shit. All the tears...I'm a repressed human...i know, i should be in therapy. I've heard it a million times. But... my roommate grabbed my hand, promised that everything was going to be great and if it wasn't....we could always go home....

and what's the exact when i let my heart be in two places. We moved in. So many beautiful people who did not know me very well...but would soon become some of the people closest to my heart....helped us move boxes, and boxes, and boxes of  our things. It took four of us and my neck nearly broken to get a king sized mattress up those tiny stairs and into our tiny-ish apartment. 

Decorated in hand me downs sprinkled with new things from Target and Ikea...we were on our way. 

And what a way it was. I fell in love with St. Paul.  A city whose heart beat, is in sync with mine. A city who wraps me up in her quaint and quiet charm and makes me fall in love with life again and again. 

Our tiny apartment was full of mischief and love and most of the time at there was at least one other person there that didn't actually live there. And we loved it. Outside our back window was a parking lot where Hans parked cars for events at excel. He was the first person we met, we offered him the rest of our dominos pizza that we walked all the way downtown to get. (side note: we had no idea what we were doing) 

Pizza Luce delivered to us. Two kids who need to feel loved and a safe place to land, landed on our couches. We held meetings, small groups, and birthday parties there. Boys broke our hearts, we were the best of friends and the worst of enemies and nothing could prepare us for the transition that lay ahead. The roads we had to pave on our own.

Then, 3 years later, I packed up my stuff again. It's hard to stay good-bye to something that you loved so much. It's even harder to do with with the pieces of our heart in your hands.  But the thing that Minnesota does is give me people who love me far beyond what i deserve.  So, while my heart and life were in pieces, there were people helping me put the pieces back together. 

And about year later, I moved out of St. Paul and into the grove. It's been a whirlwind. I don't understand love or grace or why people who offer it so freely to me, Especially since this last year and half has been the hardest....and I've been the worst version of myself...and even i don't love it. 

I'll never understand. I don't have words for what i feel about this place, and this time and how much it means to me. Brad used to say " you're a good thing" but one time he said " You're a good thing, go where you feel the most love" and that's right here. It's the scariest, most heart exposing love i have ever known this side of the Mississippi, and i don't understand why at all. I just know that i get little glimpses of who Jesus is, and what he wants this world to look like, here. 

I've needed glimpses of Jesus lately. He feels far away and like we are speaking totally different languages. So, today, when I realized that it had been 5 years....i saw the years like a flipbook, a playlist of memories, and i was completely overwhelmed. 

My roots are firmly planted in the Wisconsin ground, But, the branches, Minnesota, belong to you. They are stretching out and growing leaves, i don't know what direction their go, but i'm so thankful for them. If you cut the rings open, they tell a special kind of love story. 

The kind of love story you can only tell when people have loved you as much like Jesus as we can possibly fathom this side of heaven. 

This has been a rambly mess, but tonight as i sat with two of my small girls, who just happen to be best friends. I was, again, over come with thankfulness. For being able to understand what it's like to have a best friend who loves you in a way no one else does. 

Minnesota the most important thing you've given me is my people, and a deep appreciation for community and standing in the gap for the people you love. 

How very special to be "worth it" for an incredible group of humans. 

I literally have to wake up in 5 hours, and i'm the dummy still trying to make sense of what my heart is telling my head to say. 

Thank you for loving me. I don't have words. No, i suppose they'll come much later, they almost always do. 

I really like reading about celeb best friends, but they are by far, my favorite duo.

Tell me how to live on the edge of my seat, and teach me how to stand on my own two feet....

Once upon a time, these women were all strangers. Once upon a time, they were in high school while I was still playing hopscotch and kickball. Once upon a time they could have been my babysitters. They're moms, wives, best friends, sisters. And I'm lucky enough to call them my people. 

They're sassy, they're funny, they're strong. They've paved the way for me. They taught me how to cook, how to love Jesus, how to make sure life is full of joy, how to be strong in the midst of intense personal crisis....how to forgive the people who have hurt you....i get weepy thinking about how much i love them. 

And they let me play grown ups with them. These women who have lives that have ebbed and flowed and are full of more moxie and overcoming than I could ever hope to have. 

I have no idea how we all came to be. Africa, maybe. A mission trip i didn't even go on where God broke my heart for a country I've never been to and for a group of women who i feel so fortunate to call pals. 

 It's weird to feel so grateful to know people. Like so happy that how ever I've haphazardly run my life, has lead me to this table.  Where dirty dishes and empty wine bottles lead to full hearts and renewed faith in humanity. 

So today, i'm thankful for me people. The one's who let me into their life and let me share their friends. The ones who just come from good stock, and love funny and good wine as much as I do. 

Here's to the table. For the way it has changed us, for the roots that have been planted, and for being one more place that feels like home and its where i most want time to stand still. 

I'm trying to write more. Like once every couple of days. So far...it's been kind of a struggle.

But right now i think what my heart needs most is to laugh. A lot and a loudly. 

To remember the moments that gave me laugh lines instead of a furrowed brow 

and to drink so good drinks and play cribbage or some other game. 

and reminisce and to hear stories my friends tell stories. I like hearing about what people remember. The stories they choose to tell to people who weren't there. How the choose to capture the feeling they felt for all of us hearing it for the first time.

Being a part of someone's first time (no, not sexually but then again....that too) is sacred ground as is being present for someone to share a memory that is vivid and memorable enough to be recounted.

In that they're offering a piece of themselves. An open hand, as it were, for you to grab on. Making it a memory that you'll share a laugh or tears over.

So...i guess i just want to grab hands, make some memz, and drink a good drink. but not enough drinks that it makes me want to smoke a clove. or hooka.

but then again....maybe.

Do you remember?

there are not words for the amount of joy this photo brings me. I would like to groundhog this day forever. and ever. amen.

I had a big plan on writing about remembering. Especially since today i drove past the first house i lived in here

I looked exactly the same. But being there, outside of it, felt so different. Like it was a life time ago and now we were prefect strangers.

I was going to write about the time that i was sitting on my bed and lisa was standing in my doorway and we were both crying but i don't remember why, but i remember the feeling of that moment.

or how this year was hard and it looked and felt different than last year because picking up broken pieces and putting back together looks different but i'm not sure why.

Or how i emote unhappiness, though  not intentionally, to everyone and how when that happens, it actually has an effect on other people and it makes them feel bad. and then that makes me feel bad.

Or how, i've recently learned that you should never bake from a box. ever. never ever.

or that i put massive amounts of pressure on myself to be different. instead of asking the quesiton...what can i do better. how can i make it better....but i don't want to have those conversations because i don't like crying and i don't like being frustrated and i want someone to just tell me that they love me....

i just shoot in the dark...and hope for the best...and look for signs that Jesus is even remotely interested in my life.

Instead, tonight, i'll look at this picture and remember how it felt and smelled and how i will hold this day so close to my heart for such a long time.

And i'll go to bed with the intention of doing better and remember that i love the people in my life with moxie and my whole stupid heart.

and when i let me heart lead me, i'll always be okay.

I didn't know...

I never expect that walking into a situation will change my life. I only hope that at the end, my once upon a time will be worth telling.

I can't remember the exact place or time when we awkwardly (i'm sure, because...well,...i'm me, and well, you're an introvert) said our first hello. I don't remember the circumstances or the people. I only remember that once there was no you....and now there is.  I can't even remember when or why our paths crossed. 

Turns out, life happens in the most ordinary moments. However we got to here was delicately woven together by a God who knows what's up. A God who knows how to love in ways we didn't know we needed. I mean it's funny to think that there was a time when I didn't have a million things to tell you. That at one point, I was just a friend of a friend.

I'm sure it's weird to hold something so commonplace so close to your heart, but you, and this house are sacred places. Soft places to land....though sometimes....the runway is absolutely made of sandpaper. But iron sharpens iron and thankfully, you keep me in check.

You are a gem. Thank you for loving me the way you do. It makes me crazy. It makes me cry happy tears and mad tears. It makes me feel loved and grateful and like Jesus has my back.

Thank you for loving the best music and knowing the words to every song ever. Thank you for being the strongest woman i know and doing it with such a gentle vulnerably. Thank you for sharing every aspect of your life. The funny ones, the sweet ones but especially the messy ones. For letting me be bossy at you sometimes and for sitting through 4 season of Gilmore girls. For loving a rowdy group of teen agers with me.

Thank you for watching the same movie with me 100 times. Telling me which writer, bloggers, and pastors to follow. Thank you for loving 90's on 9, and painting your nails, and being one of the funniest people i know. And for being sassier than i could ever hope to be. For showing me what it looks like to be a good mother and wife and human. (even if it's a what not to do situation)

Thank you for letting me try to catch up to you, though my attempts are in vain. 10 years is suddenly not a large gap to close.  I don't think you'll ever know how much i love that we are basically different sides to the same coin. Similar, almost disgustingly so, but different enough to keep things interesting.

Thank you for staying up late and going through boxes and boxes of memories. It's one of my favorite, sweetest memories. Sometimes when you think you have people all figured out they go ahead and throw you a curve ball.

You are beautifully complicated. Your story is one of my favorites. You ooze goodness and I cannot tell you how proud it makes me to know that i get to know you. i get to spend time with you. Because you have a strange way of making everything feel okay. I have seen Jesus in you in more ways than i can count. From your humility, to the way you love people, to the way you forgive....it's something i aspire to be like. you make me want to be more like Jesus.

 I believe that you're changing the world in big ways. That your reflect the kingdom....even when you're not trying.

I know that life goes on and one day we might be the people that see each other once every few months. (though, i doubt it because i like to borrow your stuff) I know that we could absolutely survive without each other....and maybe that's a mark of a great friendship....but....i don't want to.

i don't like the idea of a world that doesn't include your sass on the other side of a text. Your bambi eyes when i'm sad and your weepy prayer voice.

It all feels like home. I hate the trenches. I get tired of digging sometimes, and i dont like being dirty. But it's easier to do when you're digging along side me. We are an amazing team. (minus the occasional fight that makes one or both of us cry)

You are absolutely a part of me....not like....you're in my bones...because...ugh. gross...but like....we are kindred. Our Jesus lovin souls are special....cute little puzzle pieces that are a part of telling a much larger story about Jesus, and who he is....and what can happen if you let walls down, and let people love you.

You, ya fool, are such a special thing. Your compassion, and heart, are a rarity (not the my little pony) and they are something to be celebrated. You are something to be celebrated.

Thank you for being my soul sister. and for making life sweeter, infusing more joy and for giving me a place at your table.

I didn't know when we met on a random day in a non memorable location that you would change me.  But you did. And here we are.

One day i'll have babies. and they'll love you like i do. and they'll never know what its like to not have a Lisa. and that is beautiful. 

Coffee rings and memories..

My insides feel twisty.
Anxiously waiting for
something...

The bottom,
the truth
a sad goodbye

What makes anyone stick around
for anyone
Life-even well lived-
is hard knocks
scraped knees
and bruises
from who knows where

Your reflection speaks volumes
singing silent songs to you
about what you lack

Somehow your missing pieces
are found in someone else reflections
puzzle, mosaics.
jagged edges, corners
all fit together
over cups of coffee
tears cried,

riding on the backs of laughter
and tears, celebrations and crisis
are memories
that weave a playlist
a tattered scrapbook
a ever moving reel
of memories
ever rosed colored

Incapable of being told
by just one voice.
You can't have harmony
with a just a melody

you can't have a play without
players

you can't have a we without
a you and a me.

let's weave a tapestry
of a beautiful life
even the broken parts
because  even scares
mean your survived.

Through it -together-
the world will know
what love got to
do with it.

Bits and Bobs....

I leave pieces of myself....everywhere.

There are pieces of my laughter in the air, and my heart in everyone I hug. My dreams and fears sit on handles of coffee cups, on tables and on the foot of every places I've walked.

If you look hard enough, my sparkle can be found floating through the wind. Whispering my secrets, until finally settling somewhere to germinate into something I'll always be looking for.

Maybe that's why, I feel like there's always something missing.

I've been thinking a lot about everything lately. And how i should have tried harder to be happy, because most of the time, I am. I'm not necessarily great at navigating the sharp turns on my current stretch of road.

I immediately worry if I have been grateful or thankful enough. And if  my "I said I would do it, so i'm going to." is really a negative characteristic.

Have gone about everything wrong? If there is anything that is consuming it the idea that I was so consumed with myself that i did not love the people around me well.

And tonight, I'm sitting in Starbucks. Drinking Oprah Chai. I hate Oprah, but chai is what i buy with the last three dollars i have until tomorrow.

I used to live in coffee shops. My bags and coats and scarves smelled of the french roast i had too many cups of. Stains on my shirts were reminders of the excitement or surprise i had experienced that day. Planners held post its of big dreams and small tasks. Reminders of things to be done...people to meet with....

Starbucks with Julia. Long talks. Homework. A safe place. a sacred place. Vanilla lattes and white mochas tell the story of our 4 year adventures. And  Sam. vanilla bean frap no whip. Head phones, the glass menagerie  and a playlist of musicals, to go along with whatever paper we were trying to write.

Coffee News. Brad. Rita.Coffee, curry, french fries.
Coffee News had the best french fries.

 laundry lists of laughter and teas and dreams and plans. Coffee News has closed its doors, as have we....on the chapters of our stories that overlapped. My happiest, saddest, most profound moments have happened over coffee and a favorite human on the other side.

So much of myself, through osmosis, or love, or whatever, has broken off and become part of them...Turns out, though, the pieces of me that I offered up so freely weren't necessarily anything they wanted to keep.

Coffee News. has closed. French Meadow has opened. All things new. Rita and I were just there....sitting in the spot where so much of our lives were lived over the last four years. The juxtaposition of nostalgia and new beginnings sat in the air as we talked about life.

This January has been a turning point.2015 feels different. Currently, it feels stressful as I figure out how to get a new car, a better job, and how to not be a life suck on the people who try to love me.

I can't help but think about why things happen. Why, when i've never ever been dumb about cars, have i ruined one leaving me with nothing.

I can't help but think that's its the universes way helping us move one. I need a car that's my own, a car not connected with reminders. It's the universes way of giving us all a clean slate, getting rid of pieces of ourselves that are gagged that are better off being scattered somewhere we'll never run into them again.

As of late, i've been kind of afraid to scatter myself because it feel scary and lonely and sometimes Jesus feels far away.

and why i process things my words and heart just seem to hover in the air bound to no destination,

So,  by the time I hit "publish" i will have sent the first piece of my heart into the universe, in hopes that my pieces will scatter and bounce and shimmer in the air and whisper in the wind the way they did before. .

I've been toying with all sorts of ideas on how to write an end of the year post.

But  I haven't come up with anything good, and, to be honest, the end of  year snuck up on me.

2014 has been...well, it's been. It's been filled with really cool, really hard, really life shaping things...and i'm grateful for all it but I'm not entirely sad to see it go.

This year was humbling to say the least, but also, character building.

I'm an anxious little thing when it comes to....everything..... life and plans and the future, and there's not a damn thing i can do about what's to come.

I can plan, i can do everything right but it honestly could be gone in an instant. The plan could not work out.

and that's okay.  (I say that, but even now, i'm having difficultly truly believing that)

I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for my friends. the real ones. The ones that literally are the fucking best when i've been the absolute worst.

The ones who let me weep on their shoulders, and are still on the other side of the door when i slam it. The ones who are so selfless,  the ones who say nice things to me and hug me and laugh with me.

Those ones? yeah...i'm a lucky one because those don't come around too often.

Those friends are the ones you root for. The ones who you're insanely protective of, and loyal to. The ones you check in on, buy them presents when their kids have had lice and strep and people are the worst. the ones you make tea for when their sick. the ones you sit down with once a month and are just so thankful that you get to be at the table with these women.

I really like it when people never stop being sparkly. like the more time you spend with them the more you see how amazing they are, even if they get on your nerves sometimes. and the moments of gratitude for them out number the annoyances.

And it's funny to know that these specific people have had such a huge hand in shaping me for the better, in the most intense, beautiful way....and i'm so, so, so, thankful.